


The Spirit of Halloween

by KannaOphelia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Autumn, Being haunted isn't that bad, Halloween, Happy Ending, M/M, Seasonal, Second Chances, True Love Conquers All
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/pseuds/KannaOphelia
Summary: "He can't get rid of you, can he, dear heart? Only I worry about where you'd go. Virtuous men don't become ghosts, they say. And you've never been much for virtue," he chortled to himself. "No, not one for virtue at all."Ah, that brought his friend out. A cold shiver on his lips, like the memory of being kissed by autumn-chilled lips. He closed his eyes. It was easier, with his eyes closed, not to be afraid. Not that he was afraid. Charles had never been afraid of Victor.
Relationships: Male Librarian/Male Ghost Haunting Library
Comments: 15
Kudos: 40
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	The Spirit of Halloween

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nan/gifts).



> Mildly inspired by [this real-life story](https://blogs.sussex.ac.uk/libsocial/2008/03/19/ghostbusters-called-in-to-cleanse-library/); although there is no seance in the toilet.
> 
> Happy Halloween, nan!

"Well, you've done it now."

Charles's back ached as he stooped to pick up the fallen books. Old bones. He felt a mild resentment of Kevin, bright and breezy and efficient, who had told him to "clean up the mess before you go, mate, mate, I'm late for my gym session." Keven could have cleaned up the mess in a quarter of the time. But bringing it up now would mean bringing up suggestions he was too old for the job and should be looking at forced redundancy, and he had his own reasons for wanting to stay working at the library.

"It's not that I don't appreciate the chivalry," he told the shelves of books and DVDs. Those young men had been most unpleasant, laughing at the camp old man in his bow tie and worn jacket. It was a good jacket. Even with the loud check a little faded, it was well constructed, beautifully lined, warm and felt rather like a hug going on his shoulders. The kind of thing he could never afford new, not on a permanent assistant librarian salary, and not _now_ especially. he could hardly go to Harvey Nicks. But the quality was good, and the charity shop appreciated the money. There was nothing wrong with looking dapper, and autumn was growing cooler. Last day of October. "Still, dropping books on them. They could have been seriously hurt. Head injuries, you know." The library didn't answer.

"But most of all I'm concerned about _you_. Kevin has already got into his head to bring in an exorcist. Oh, not an exorcist, he says." He arranged the books onto the trolley in decimal order. He was damned if he was going to put them back on the shelves during unpaid overtime. Damned. Well, perhaps he was, at that, seeing what he was considering. "A non-denominational spiritual adviser," he said, mockingly. "Thought I'd put the lid on it. But if you put people in actual danger... Well, Kevin's been talking about putting the money for a _spirit cleansing_ up himself. And I'd hate him to get rid of you."

No response. Sometimes, there would be a whisper, not quite a familiar voice, echoing as much in his heart as in his ears. Lips ghosting--ha, that was funny--on the back of his neck, icy breath on his cheek. Charles had been confused and disbelieving the first time it had happened. Forty years ago. Well, time passed.

"He can't get rid of you, can he, dear heart? Only I worry about where you'd go. Virtuous men don't become ghosts, they say. And you've never been much for virtue," he chortled to himself. "No, not one for virtue at all. Or Ii wouldn't have lost my own virtue in the library toilets on my twentieth birthday."

Ah, that brought his friend out. A cold shiver on his lips, like the memory of being kissed by autumn-chilled lips. He closed his eyes. It was easier, with his eyes closed, not to be afraid. Not that he _was_ afraid. He had never been afraid of Victor.

But it was easier to pretend Victor was alive. Still there. Capable of talking back, not just of throwing books at people who insulted him. Charles tried to update his image in his head, as the years went by. Added weight to the slender form--Victor had always liked to eat. Had devoured food with the same avidity he devoured books. He had big plans, Victor. So he had no money, so his family wasn't a "nice" family like Charles's lot. He would study the hell out of things. Get a scholarship. Go to university. Get a good job.

 _Promise you won't let them marry you off while I'm away,_ he'd said, surrounded by piles of books and notes. _When we have money, I can protect you. I'll be a good husband, darling. I'll fight for you._

Funny, they could _really_ have got married these days. Rings, ceremony, paperwork. If only Victor had lived to see it. Bloody influenza. He had come to pick Victor up from the library, and he had been collapsed over the desk, his fever warm."Well, it was a long time ago, and he hadn't lost Victor, even then.

"I won't let Kevin drive you to Hell without me," he said. "I'll do anything. Anything it takes. I'll burn in Hell with you." He chuckled. "At least we'll be warm."

"Um, hello? Sir?"

He hadn't let the young lady in. But there she was, shifting from side to side in her dramatic crushed velvet dress, her hair dyed a very fictional black, winged eyeliner like Cleopatra. Kids, he thought indulgently, for all she must have been edging close to thirty, must have their fashions. Victor had been into his black eyeliner, back in the 1980s. Charles had always been more conservative.

"I'm here about your ghost problem," she explained, then paused. "Oh. Oh, but he's not the problem at all, is he?"

Victor felt a sudden rush of fear. She was staring over his shoulder, where he could feel Victor's presence. "No," he said steadily. "Not a problem."

She shook her head. She was wearing far too much pale makeup, but her brown eyes were sharp and intelligent. "No, there is a problem. He can't bear to leave you."

he straightened his shoulders, defensive. "So what of that? I'm sorry about the lads. It won't happen again."

She smiled suddenly. "I think the problem is that he died at all."

It was harsh, and even after these years brought pain to his throat. He didn't answer.

The girl brightened. "Well, don't worry about that, dear. Have you heard of Christmas angels who appear to those about to pass on? I suppose I'm a kind of Hallowe'en angel. Ghosts are my thing. I like ghosts. And I suppose I have one miracle left in me."

RIdiculous. he didn't believe in miracles. Only... Victor was still here, still protecting him. Maybe there were miracles after all.

"What's the one true wish in your heart?"

He looked into her eyes, and felt dizzy again. His heart, he supposed.

"That we could have lived our lives together properly."

She grinned. She didn't look like an angel. She looked like a _witch_. But...

"Done," she said.

* * *

He was on the steps to the library. How had he arrived there? Had he left without meaning to? He...

It wasn't like him to be so confused. Victor was studying too late again. Time to visit and sweep him off. Something told him it was urgent, and something else gave him an odd sense of terror, as if he would find something awful. He seized his courage, and ran inside.

Victor was slumped over his books, and the terror focused. He ran forward and touched the shoulder.

His friend looked up. "Oh! I dozed off." he rubbed his own cheeks. "Had a bit of a fever, but it seems to have broken."

"You work too hard," Charles told him. Happiness was blossoming in his heart. He wasn't sure why, but the joy thrummed through him like his blood.

"It's for us."

"I know," said Charles. He took a quick look around to make sure no one could see him through the shelves, and then leaned in and kissed Victor. Full on the mouth, deepening, pushing their tongues together.

"What was that for?" Charles was flushed, but it wasn't from fever. "Not that I'm complaining."

"We'll be married one day," Charles told him. "Really married. Don't ask me how I know."

"Haven't I always told you so?" Victor laughed. "Have a little faith in the spirit of Halloween, dear." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. That was an odd thing to say."

They walked out of the library together, the future spread out before them, glowing like the autumn leaves.


End file.
